“It is not our differences that divide us. It is our inability to recognize, accept, and celebrate those differences.” ~ Audre Lorde.

Like many children, I grew up seeing the world through the lens of my parents’ eyes – in particular my father.  He had a way of making observations that helped you to see that you couldn’t run with one version of a story – there are always more sides, aspects you are unaware of.  Even in early adulthood, if I was in a serious discussion, I would often regurgitate an argument I had heard from my father.  He was a minister, a man of the cloth as they say, which naturally flavored his perceptions.  But he was also a realist, a man who lived in the real world, where people struggled with real challenges.

He was, at one time, my teacher in high school (so was my mother, but that’s a different story!).  He taught ‘Bible Knowledge’, but he didn’t use it to proselytize, to convince you of his belief, or of the religion he followed.  He taught it as a book of history, geography, human frailty, of stories of people.  He explained away the discordant points of view to be found throughout the Bible as the work of man, the scribes who transcribed chapters and verses, editing according to the current social mores, perhaps adding or subtracting to keep in line with the ‘political correctness’ of the times.  He taught you to see things in context, not as literal rules and regulations.

On Sunday mornings, he taught from a different (and literal) pulpit, preaching of faith and belief, aspirational words to inspire his congregation to live better with each other; to demonstrate Christ’s love in action; to forgive; to live your faith.  His words not only drew from that same textbook but from everyday life, weaving in stories of people he met every day as he traveled around our local community in Jamaica.  He was never without pen and notebook (those 20^th century memory aids), and these stories added humor and color to his sermons, spicing up his speech, so that you listened, actually listened to his message.  I can see the church now, windows slanted open to catch any possible breeze (this was before ceiling fans were installed), the occasional rustle as an ‘icymint’ was unwrapped and shared with restless children, the random sound of a vehicle ‘drawing gear’ as it climbed the steep hill that passed in front of the church.  Sundays were different in that little country town.

In these last days before a most consequential election in the US, we are being bombarded with messages.  By far the most disturbing was the recent display of hostility and hatred towards whole groups of ‘others’: immigrants; women; Puerto Ricans; Latinos; and anyone who has a different political view from the presenters.  Speaker after speaker (mostly white males) ranted and used ugly and divisive rhetoric to incite the crowd to an even higher level of excitement.  As I listened to the language used all I could think of was the audience.  How could they hear such things and not be horrified, not walk out in disgust, not shake their heads in distaste? 

A song from the 70s has been drifting through my brain recently: ‘I’d like to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony’.  It was also a commercial, but the image of humans of all colors, races and persuasions singing together endures in my mind.  In the 80s there was the Hands Across America fund-raising campaign which tried to have an unbroken chain of diverse people holding hands to raise money and awareness of problems of homelessness and hunger in this country.  It is hard to envision that this country can produce both the people who worked on such campaigns and people who attend hate-filled rallies.

We live in a white-dominated society, no matter how much we believe we are in a ‘post-racist’ era.  We still live in a country where there are people who can ignore the fascist tendencies of a candidate for president (with all of his self-evident flaws and history of corruption, crime and nepotism, to name a few).  Predominantly in the Sunbelt, the ‘Christian Right’ has organized (indoctrinated?) their congregants to somehow see this extremely unchristian man as the anointed one, which seriously boggles the mind.  But the history of this Christian Right goes back a long way, back to when that great centenarian Jimmy Carter was running for reelection.  They jumped on the ‘pro-life’ wagon to motivate their masses to vote against him.  In reality their true fight was to keep schools segregated.  Yes, I’m afraid the ‘Christian Right’ is using its power to Make America White Again. 

We also live in a patriarchal society, however much we work on equity and equality.  Another theme coming out of the ‘Hatefest’ last Sunday night was a strong anti-woman premise, and this is supported by the actions taken by State legislatures (supported by the Supreme Court) to prevent women from having control over their own bodies.  These ‘abortion bans’ have resulted in physicians denying appropriate, medically sanctioned care to women and have already resulted in deaths.  The stories  that we have heard are of deaths which are tragic and unnecessary, and who knows how many more stories are not publicized?  How can we call ourselves a civilized society when women are dying for want of established, indicated medical procedures? How many physicians are violating their Hippocratic oath to do no harm in order not to violate the law?

There are not many in my immediate circle of friends who are able to find any option available other than to vote for a woman who, although imperfect, stands for unity, harmony and progress.  For those who disagree, I can only hope that we do not have to face the future with the alternative. 

On this Friday morning, I am filled with nervous hope that we can fulfill the promise of America which states ‘Out of Many, One’; a nation which celebrates all of the origins of its people, and supports the right of all people to pursue happiness.  A nation which respects the humanity and beliefs of all of its citizens.  A nation which teaches its children the true history of the country so that we can acknowledge the wounds and allow for healing to take place.  I choose to believe that we can.

Have a wonderful weekend, Family! Make sure your voice is heard!

One Love!

Namaste.